


Another Perfect Catastrophe

by Mikimoo, pentapus



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Humor, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, slight mayhem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2018-12-21 08:24:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11940198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikimoo/pseuds/Mikimoo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pentapus/pseuds/pentapus
Summary: Dick goes undercover as himself in order to catch a gang of international thieves. Jason reluctantly tags along as his long suffering bodyguard. During the ensuing mayhem they get to know each other again and build a few bridges.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pentapus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pentapus/gifts).



> An embarrassingly long time ago, the amazing and very, very talented Pentapus invited me to do a reverse bang style exchange, and drew me an amazing prompt. I have no idea how this story was the one that emerged from the many options I had, but such is the creative process I guess! Anyhoo, many thanks to Pentapus for both encouragement and patience, and of course the incredible art! (which will be included at the end of the appropriate chapter)

This was a cluster-fuck. An epic, tragic, mess of ridiculous proportions. It was the sort of thing that only seemed to happen to Jason.

“Gosh, your eyes are pretty,” Dick said, as Jason dragged him bodily towards where he thought the entrance to the wine cellar was. According to the blueprints and the literature he had read on the house and estate, there was an old smugglers tunnel that led to the coast and freedom. He was just fervently hoping it was still accessible.

“Were they always that color?” Dick slurred, petting the button on Jason's cuff and staring blearily at his ear.

“Come on, you drugged up moron,” Jason growled. He was looking forward to giving Dick a hard time about this later, but right now he was a real pain in the ass. Jason spotted the cellar door, and hauled Dick towards it. They had enough of a lead, they could do this and get away before the hired goons caught up to them. He propped Dick against the wall, ignoring the way the fool slid down to the floor with a whoosh of breath.

The hatch was held shut with a rusty padlock and it clearly hadn't been used in some time. Hopefully his picks would make short work of it. If they could open it, they could leave less of a trail than if he had to break it off. Unfortunately Jason just wasn't that lucky, he never fucking was.

“Come on, come on,” he chanted under his breath, as his picks caught the inner workings of the lock but wouldn't budge. “Come _on_ ,” he grunted, and with a particularly hard tug it finally gave and the padlock sprang open.

“Come on, come on, turn your radio on!” Dick sang at the top of his lungs and wildly out of tune.

So much for gaining time by being sneaky. At least the sound had bounced around the wide courtyard. Jason yanked Dick to his feet and bundled him into the open hatch. His feeling of relief was short lived though, when he felt a sudden impact in his neck. He pulled free the small dart and stared at it.

“ _Fuck_.”

 

This had all been Bruce's fault.

The mission had been a simple one, be bait for a gang of very ambitious thieves praying on the stupidly rich. They operated in Europe as well as the US, and their last sting had hit members of the Gotham elite. Normally Jason wouldn't bother with offering an assist getting justice for a bunch of super rich crooks and morons. But there was a sexual and sadistic element to the hits that put them on Jason's shit list. Their victims were both male and female, and the violence often extended to younger family members. Drugs were the method used to extract bank details and subdue the targets, so the assaults were just for 'fun' rather than a tactic to gain anything.

Jason hadn't been planning to go after them, as he was aware Batman was looking into it. But when Bruce contacted him and demanded he lend his aid in that no-nonsense tone that was his version of asking for a favor, Jason went, despite his knee jerk reaction to tell the Bat to fuck off. He could admit he was curious - why would B be asking for _his_ help?

 

Turned out it wasn't just him. Jason had been unimpressed to find Dick there already, and Dick had displayed an equal lack of enthusiasm. Apparently Bruce hadn't bothered to share his plan with his Golden Boy either. He had also failed to mention to Jason that he was injured; one leg was immobilized by a hi-tech cast and there were bruises and burns on his face. Some hair on the back of his head was singed off to the scalp.

The sight caused all sorts of bad feelings to swim in Jason's gut – how close had he come this time? Bruce was ridiculously good at what he did, but it only took one lucky shot. What would they do when the day came when he didn't dodge fast enough? Why did Jason even care?

“We've figured out they're going to hit London next,” Bruce said, without preamble. “I was planning on going with Damian, but the events of the last week mean that Dick has to go in my stead.”

“So he and the spawn are off to Europe? Why do you need me?” Jason asked.

Dick scowled at him with real anger behind his expression, “Damian got hurt too, he can't go on a trip when he looks like he spent time in a meat grinder, because he was _blown up_.” That last was growled at Bruce, and Jason realized Dick wasn't actually mad at him at all, he was upset about whatever had happened with the previous case. Bruce ignored Dick's tone, words and expression with the ease of someone who did it all the time, and went back to bringing up mission info on the computer.

“I ask again, why am I here?” Jason said into the frigid silence.

“Nightwing needs backup, and Richard needs a bodyguard.”

“I _don't_.”

“Don't be difficult for the sake of it, Dick, we don't have time. Richard Grayson wouldn't be without one, not after all the kidnap attempts.”

It was disconcerting to hear Bruce talk about Dick in three separate parts, perhaps it really was just that easy for Bruce to be different people when the situation called for it. Jason knew it was next to impossible for him to be like that, and he suspected it wasn't easy for Dick either.

Dick stalked a little closer, coiled violence in his movements and tension practically coming off him in waves. “There are lots of options for that role, at the very least you could have let me choose for myself.”

“So, I'm just useful as big, dumb muscle, is that it?” Jason demanded. He hated that this kind of crap was the only thing Bruce ever wanted from him, but in some small part of his heart he still got an annoying but persistent thrill when the old man asked him for help in that angry, blunt and almost stilted way he had. It was the sad and pathetic remnants of his past hero worship. “And I don't even get the courtesy of being asked nicely? Fuck you both.” He hoped that didn't sound as petty or hurt to them as it did to his own ears. But it wasn't like he didn't have his own shit to deal with; this was a waste of his time.

He was surprised when Dick caught up to him as he re-entered the house, he had expected them to be punching each other’s lights out by now.

“Jason, wait.”

“Not interested.”

“Bruce is an ass, I wish he hadn't sprung this on us.” Dick reached out and lay his warm fingers on Jason's wrist, then withdrew his hand when Jason scowled at them. “And him being a control freak was no excuse for me being a shit to you about it.” That statement looked like it had been hard to say, admitting to being a douchebag wasn't easy for anyone it seemed.

“Fine, apology accepted. But I have shit to do, Dick.”

“He's an ass, but, annoyingly, he's also right,” Dick said, with a slightly sour twist to his lips.

“How?”

“I will need back up, and a bodyguard, for show.” He shrugged. “I already have some ideas for the first part of the operation, but I’ll probably need some help planning the rest.”

“You never need help planning,” Jason said, failing to keep the scorn from his voice. “What's your angle?”

“Just a feeling, a hunch maybe? Or perhaps I'm still rattled by last week. We nearly lost Damian and Bruce at once, I don't feel up to taking chances, you know?”

Jason grunted. He was going to regret saying yes, but not as much as if he said no and something happened he could have prevented. And if he was being honest, it was gratifying to hear Dick admit he wanted help, whether he needed it or not. “Fine, when and where?”

“Here, two days. We'll fly to London and try and get this wrapped up. Thanks, Jay.” He grinned a bright smile up at Jason, and Jason felt the first stirring of real trepidation.

 

“No,” Dick said when Jason arrived at the manor to pick him up and drive him to the airport.

Jason squashed the urge to say 'yes', just to be contrary and instead ground his teeth together and waited for Dick to elaborate. It didn't help that Dick literally looked like a million dollars. Instead of the usual shaggy mess, he was sporting what Jason suspected was a $600 haircut, it changed his appearance slightly, added a touch of arrogance and artifice to his natural good looks. He was also wearing vastly overpriced designer jeans and a tight polo in baby pink. Jason sort of wanted to smack him for the price tag on the pants alone.

Dick gestured at Jason's suit. “This isn't what I want.”

“Oh?” Jason ground out, “You had something else in mind for me? Don't want to be seen with underdressed help?” It was a decent suit, one he had had fitted for those occasions where he had to dress up. It wasn't Bruce level good, but it wasn't from Walmart either.

“Quite the contrary. We have to make a splash, get noticed be _scandalous_!” He beckoned Jason further inside, and when he dragged his heels slightly, Dick grabbed hold of his sleeve and tugged him into the bowels of the house, dislodging a cufflink in the process.

“Dammit, Dick. Stop manhandling me!”

“Sorry, but we have a flight to catch.”

Jason's eyes rolled before he could stop them. “Like they wouldn't wait for you, rich boy.”

Dick grinned at him, the expression was challenging rather than friendly. “I'm not well known in London. The people there who know Bruce don't visit the right circles, they're more old money, while we need young, stupid and filthy rich.” He paused to usher Jason into the study, the one Bruce had for show, rather than use. “We need to get the right kind of attention, fast. That means we gotta be a little outrageous. That and throw around cash like it’s going out of style.”

He gave Jason another one of those challenging, sharp smiles, and pointed a perfectly manicured finger at a pile of clothes draped haphazardly over the nineteenth century chaise lounge. “Wear that.”

Jason wanted to object on principle, but he supposed he should have a look first; his only concession to avoiding a fist fight before they even got out of the country.

He poked through the clothes curiously. The outfit Dick had picked out for him was like a less beat up, more designer version of his normal wear. The leather jacket was a thing of beauty; it smelled like money and class, but it looked like something he might choose for himself. “Why this?” he asked, not willing to show his complete bemusement.

“Two reasons, both practical,” Dick said, leaning his butt against Bruce's hand carved desk. “Get changed and I'll explain my thinking.”

Jason wasn't necessarily shy about shucking his pants in front of folks, he grew up having to hit the showers with the goddamn Justice League after all. (And let it be said that seeing Superman in the buff was not what a gangly, half grown teenager needed for his wobbly self-esteem.) But there was still something that made him profoundly uncomfortable about stripping down in front of Dick.

He wasn't going to let that show, though, and instead he casually removed his suit jacket and dropped his slacks. Dick didn't seem to be paying any attention, so Jason relaxed slightly as he pulled on the pants Dick had provided. “And?” he prompted starting on his button up.

“Two very practical reasons” Dick repeated. “Number one, while I'm playing nice with the socialites it makes sense for you to do some sneaking, and for that it would be best if you had your gear. If people are used to you kitted out in this get up, it won't look so suspicious if they catch you lurking around wearing leather.”

“Uh huh,” Jason agreed, he was having some significant trouble pulling on the t-shirt Dick had provided. “I think this is the wrong size, Dickhead,” he said, tugging the hem over his abs. He could feel the material pull at the shoulders, but it didn't feel like it would restrict movement too much.

“That brings us to reason number two,” Dick said brightly as a predatory grin grew on his face. “To get the sort of attention we need, we have to stand out. My bodyguard needs to be sexy as well as scary. People should make terrible assumptions.” He stalked towards Jason who had the sudden urge to back up. Dick whipped out a comb from somewhere in his sinfully tight jeans and attacked Jason's hair without further warning.

“Oi!”

“Hold still, Jason!”

“I draw the line at you fucking with my hair, Dick!” Jason batted him away. “You can dress me like a damn doll if it pleases you, but the hair is sacrosanct!”

Dick looked like he was going to lunge at him again, but then he seemed to think better of it. “Fine,” he said, shaking his own hair out of his eyes. “You look the part, that's good enough for me.”

“Oh thanks so much, Dick, I'm so very flattered,” Jason grumbled as they headed for the car. It turned out Dick had also packed a spare suitcase for him, no doubt filled with obscenely tight T-shirts and overpriced pants. But after some internal debate he decided not to argue the point. Dick was clearly in a bossy mood and Jason would save the fighting for when it mattered.

Or when it was most obnoxious, he wasn't above being petty.


	2. Chapter 2

 

It was raining when they landed at Heathrow, and it continued to drizzle in a sad grey mist as their car finally entered the city. It didn't exactly put Jason in a party mood, but at least the hotel was conveniently located. And as fancy as all hell.

Their suit was outrageously opulent of course, with grand furnishings and a layout that was twice the size of Jason's Gotham pad, bigger even than Dick's beat down Bludhaven apartment. The living area was just oozing money and the master bedroom had a huge bed with almost offensively busy wallpaper. Dick seemed thrilled with the ugly swirling pattern and threw himself down on the bed, practically disappearing into the huge pile of pillows.

Jason left him to it and headed over to inspect his adjourning room. To his relief it was slightly more to his taste, less chaotically decorated – more in line with the expensive hotels Bruce favored. For all his many, many faults, Bruce had impeccable taste, in Jason's opinion. Except when it came to women and orphans. How he had raised Dick, a man so completely lacking in personal style he was practically a walking advert for color blindness, was a mystery.

He dumped his case on the bed and inspected what horrors Dick had packed for him; three Captain America T-shirts – funny Dick, real funny. And a Winter Soldier one, which was just rude. The rest of the shirts and pants were reasonable. And the underwear was ridiculous, how he had found every possible variety of Justice League boxers in such a short time was a testament to his inventive ability and vindictive nature.

The pyjamas had little Nightwing symbols on them. Dick clearly thought he was some kind of comedian.

There was a complimentary bottle of champagne on the table in the living room, as well as a brochure for free treatments at the spar and use of the pool and gym. How the other half lived. Although he had enjoyed life at the manor for a few short years he had never really adjusted to the idea of being rich, and displays of excessive wealth got his back up. Why, if you thought nothing of paying $1,000 for a bottle of bubbly, could you not give the same for the homeless kids eking out a living in the Narrows? At least Bruce funded projects and education for the disadvantaged in Gotham. Jason bet most of the shmucks who stayed in these rooms didn't even spare a thought.

All of the positive thoughts about Bruce were very unnerving, so he went to see if he could pick a fight with Dick to take his mind off things.

Dick was asleep, sprawled over the ugly, expensive green bedspread, sunglasses dangling from his fingers and his beautifully coiffured hair a mess on the pillow. His mouth was slightly open and there was a smear of drool on his cheek. He looked like a dope, a ridiculously attractive dope. Maybe because he was much easier to deal with when he was asleep.

 

Jason was reading in the sitting room when Dick finally woke and wandered in, dishevelled and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Sorry, Jay,” he said, flopping into a plush armchair with more grace than was really fair. “Travelling really takes it out of me.”

Jason grunted and tried not to remember how long he had spent staring at Dick's dumb sleeping face. “Do you have a plan of action, or were you just planning to reel them in with excessive laziness?” he growled.

Dick ignored his combative tone and stretched like a cat, yawning and flexing. “I thought we could check online for some good spots to hit, maybe start with drinks at the bar here to get the lay of the land and then go paint the town red?”

“And we’re going to get noticed I take it?” 

“Yeah, money, party's, outrageous behavior, the works.”

“Sounds like fun.” Jason said dryly. It might be fun if he was the one getting to be the party animal, rather than the muscle that stood around looking scary and stopping his charge from doing anything too damaging to his reputation. Still, it might also give him a few good opportunities to watch Dick make a fool of himself, and he never turned down those.

 

The hotel bar was beautiful, and their choice of whisky was extensive. Jason eyed the bottles with a certain amount of yearning as Dick took a seat and picked up the drinks menu. He would probably choose something horrible and insipid.

“You have a thing about scotch, don't you?” Dick asked. Jason was surprised, they had never discussed such things except for that time when Jason had got horribly drunk sneaking booze from Bruce's drinks cabinet when he was fifteen. He had thought Dick would tattle on him, but he had just grinned and said that it was something of a right of passage to debase Bruce's fancy alcohol. Dick had slapped Jason's shoulder as he wobbled around the pool table, and then told him not to choke to death when the inevitable vomiting happened. And although he had refused to allow Jason to drink any more, he had stayed all night, just to make sure he survived to endure his hangover the next morning.

“I do,” Jason ventured.

“Let’s get some then, we can't get drunk obviously, but we can have a taste or two before dinner. What do you want?”

Jason scanned the menu while Dick took a casual look around the bar. As they were on Bruce's dime, he was going to have to go for something outrageously expensive. Perhaps the 21 year Old Poultney or a Bruichladdich Octomore.

“You order, we're in luck,” Dick murmured, rising out of his chair with the lean grace of a panther and heading towards an older man in a sharp suit. He reached out and shook the guy’s hand while the man eyed him curiously.

By the time Dick came back Jason had sipped thoughtfully at both drinks, making a mental record of each for the tasting notes he would deny keeping with his dying breath.

Dick looked a little unenthusiastic as he eyed the glasses. “No ice?”

“No, Dick. No ice.”

Dick sipped at the Octomore and made a comically disgusted face – a motion that caught the attention of the waiter.

“Everything to your satisfaction, sir?” he asked.

“Yes thanks,” Dick said, still eyeing his drink with a vague expression of offence. “Can I get a coke to go in that?”

“Of course sir.” the waiter said, with a barely perceptible pause. Jason felt the emotion behind the blank veneer of politeness was one of both scorn for the stupid heathen who would do such a thing to a good scotch, and silent anguish for the destruction of a single malt that probably cost as much as a day’s pay.

“God-sakes, just get him a JD and coke, don't sully the good stuff,” Jason said, unable to watch any more, and pulling the drink towards himself protectively.

The waiter looked at Dick who smiled up at him with guileless enthusiasm, “Actually, do you have cocktails? Maybe a strawberry margarita?”

“Of course, sir.” The waiter shot Jason a look of pity before heading to the bar.

“Dick, you are an embarrassment to mankind. An embarrassment to Bruce and his wonderful collection of world whiskeys, and an embarrassment to me.”

Dick stared at him. Jason returned the look, suddenly doubting himself.

“Oh my God, Jason,” Dick grinned at him with the most honest and open expression Jason had seen on his face in forever. “You're a whisky snob!”

“I am not! I just have standards.” Jason couldn't help but feel he had laid himself open in some way. But he was simultaneously enthralled by the expression on Dick's face and pleased for being the one to put it there, as baffling as it was.

“You were the same way about books as a kid, do you remember? So opinionated, you would argue anyone into the floor about whatever you were reading, whether you liked it or not.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Jason said, sullenly. “My teacher hated me, said it was disruptive to disagree with him.”

“Your teacher was an idiot,” Dick sniffed. “Bruce didn't shy away from telling him so, either.”

“I had forgotten that.” He had blocked so many memories out, so he only remembered the bad. It hurt less that way, but it probably wasn't doing him any favors. Suddenly uncomfortable he desperately wanted to change the subject. “Who was that man you were with?” he asked, hoping Dick would take the bait.

“Jerry Peters, he's a guy who knows people,” Dick said, vaguely. “He meets with another guy we might want to connect with who can get us into parties.”

“Fortuitous we met him then,” Jason said dryly.

“Forward planning, and a dash of luck.” Dick sipped smugly at his cocktail, thankfully it had been served in a very respectable looking glass and not in the monstrosity of umbrellas and nonsense Jason had been anticipating. He suspected Dick ordered stuff like that on purpose to get a rise out of him. Maybe, he was really a stylish guy with a sophisticated palette, and only pretended to be a walking embarrassment as some sort of self depreciating bonding mechanism.

Probably not though.

“Here's our guy,” Dick said, without turning.

He was a well dressed white man, approaching fifty and trying to look fifteen years younger, he greeted Peters with a nod and a brisk handshake and they bent their heads together to talk, glancing across the bar towards them. “Looks like you made an impression,” Jason said. “Your man's heading over.”

“Cool,” Dick smiled like a shark and unsubtly tangled one of his legs with Jason's, something that would be clearly visible to the approaching man.

“Hello, I'm sorry to interrupt,” the guy said, as he arrived at their table.

“No problem,” Dick withdrew his leg from where it was resting against Jason's and radiating heat.

“My names Ed Garner,” He reached out at shook Dick's hand.

“Richard Grayson,” Dick said, with a smile that was less sparkly than Jason had anticipated. Apparently this job called for arrogant rather than outright friendly.

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” Garner said with a smarmy smile of his own. “I know of you of course, you're Bruce Wayne's boy.”

The fact that he said boy rather than son was not lost on either of them, and Jason could see a glint of steel behind Dick's answering smirk. “That's right,” he said.

Jason wasn't sure if he was imagining the slight leer in Garner’s expression, but he knew he wasn't missing the significance of the brief look Garner had given their intertwined legs.

“Are you here for business or pleasure?” Garner asked.

“Pleasure,” Dick practically purred the word, his eyes flicking towards Jason and back to Garner “It's been a long time since I've been to Europe, I felt it was time to see the sights.” He made it sound like those sights were pornographic in nature. Jason was proud of how impassive he managed to keep his expression under the full force of Dick's sex voice.

“If you're looking for entertainment while you're in London, I arrange events. There's a party tonight, and one tomorrow at a hot new club – very exclusive, are you interested? I can get you on the list for both without a problem,” Garner said.

“And my bodyguard?” Dick's face was polite, but Jason felt he could sense the dislike oozing off him. Whether Garner could also sense that was irrelevant – he was interested in hooking a hot rich guy to attend his party, and that was it.

“Of course,” he gave Jason a once over that lingered on his biceps, practically bulging out of the ridiculous t-shirt Dick had given him. Jason was not particularly comfortable with the expression on the guy’s face, but a small part of himself, which he _hated_ with a low key intensity, was kind of thrilled that he was someone people thought Dick Grayson was banging. He was slightly disgusted with himself that this was the kind of bullshit his crappy self-esteem was based on.

“That would be great. Send me the details, I'll give you my email.” Dick handed the man a card and then turned back to Jason, completely dismissing Garner in the rudest way possible. “Have you ever had oysters? They have good ones here, I think and maybe a bottle of the good stuff.” He waved at the waiter, leaving Garner to awkwardly smile and leave, returning to his friend at the bar.

Dick ordered them the oysters, which Jason had attempted to eat before, and disliked intensely. Although watching Dick delicately squish lemon onto them and then swallow the slimy little suckers was inexplicably filling Jason's head with bad thoughts. This mission was going to be a potentially embarrassing one, he could tell. Especially if all his pants were as tight as the ones he was currently wearing.

Dick's arrogant playboy persona seemed to work though and within five minutes of Garner leaving their table he had emailed them details of his parties. One in Mayfair, and another in Soho.

“We going to head to this place then?” Jason asked. He had it up on google maps, it wasn't that far to walk and Jason was quite keen to see a bit of the city, especially as it seemed to have finally stopped raining. They would have to probably get a cab though, for show.

“Nah, we just needed this guys attention, we should play hard to get, we don't want to seem too keen. Let’s stay in tonight, do a bit of research and lay a bit of ground work.”

“Whatever you say, _boss_ ,” Jason said in the most provocative way he knew how. He was extremely gratified to see an expression of surprise flitter over Dick's face and the slight darkening of his eyes.

 

'Laying the ground work' turned out to involve being as obnoxious a hotel guest as possible, mostly by ordering extravagant food and playing very loud gay porn on the 72 inch TV in the suites lounge. Dick seemed to both be enjoying himself and feeling guilty over the hassle he was causing the poor staff. It was quite funny to watch him struggle between the two very different feelings.

“Just tip them really, really well – a bonus will make up for the trouble. And it’s giving them something to talk about. Your name is already popping up on gossip sites, I'm sure by the end of tonight you'll have the start of a good scandal,” Jason said.

Dick grinned and placed an order for Mojito flavored condoms with more eagerness than was really appropriate. “We could always give the gossips a nudge, too.” 

Jason found himself grinning back.

Tarnishing Dick’s name on the Internet turned out to be very entertaining. And as they weren't going out on the town, Jason had treated himself to another scotch and was feeling pretty mellow. His headphones blocked out the porn and he had just started a fight on ONTD over whether Richard Grayson was Bi or just Gay for Pay. He sort of understood why people like Lex Luthor kept trying to take over the world; orchestrating mayhem was fun. He was also amused that Bruce and Dick seemed to have a bunch of sock puppet accounts on social media for just this sort of thing. Bruce on LiveJournal was almost as funny as Bruce on Tumblr.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a long week. And they were only three days in – the party scene was twice as exhausting as being a teenage vigilante juggling school, social engagements and crime fighting at once. Jason was reaching the end of his ability to cope with stupid young socialites and rich freaks with wandering hands.

Today's exercise in restraint was a party in the trendy East End, an area steeped in interesting history, that Jason would have liked to explore in other circumstances. Instead he was hovering on the edge of a dance floor, watching Dick writhe and twist to the music like some sort of incubus. He was mesmerizing and had drawn a lot of interest, people wanted to dance with him, to touch him and sometimes cop a feel. If Jason had been a real bodyguard, he probably would have torn his hair out by now, but as it was he just grit his teeth and kept his eyes peeled. That and fend off the advances of sleazy rich folks who were after _him_ instead. It wasn't clear if they were attracted to his body, poured into the stupid tiny T-shirts, or to the air of danger he was attempting to give off. Either way he seemed to be like catnip to them.

Of course, they also approached him to get to Dick.

“Must be a bit boring for you, no?” Someone said at his elbow, and he looked down at the young woman smiling up at him. She dropped a slim, white hand to rest on his folded arm. “Having to stand around and watch while he has all the fun.”

Jason shrugged. “It's fine. I get paid for it.” He looked a little closer at her; perfect hair perfect teeth, whip thin in her designer dress. She looked about as dangerous as a kitten, but there was something about her that still pricked at Jason's senses. And if there was one thing he had learnt at Bruce's side it was that even the most innocuous, tiny woman could still be hiding a death ray in her oversized purse.

“You don't get jealous?” she asked slyly, smiling up at him, somewhere between mocking and seductive.

“Nope. He can do what he wants, as long as I get my check at the end of it.”

“How very mercenary of you.”

“It's a job, pays better than flipping burgers. And I get other perks too.” Jason deliberately kept the inflection out of his voice, but he could tell he had her intrigued.

“I bet you do. Well then, do you think you could make an introduction for me? I do so hate the dance floor, too much sweat and body odor.”

“Who should I say wants to meet him?”

“Celia Denbury,” she said with the air of someone who expected to be recognized. The name meant nothing to Jason, so he didn't bother to respond. Instead he took out his phone and texted Dick.

_Girl wants intro, celia denbury? a15_

The code just let Dick know she might be worth meeting, it could be nothing, but Jason trusted his instincts and they were telling him he was dealing with a predator of some sort. Of course it could just be her rich blue blood.

Over on the dance floor, Dick peeled himself away from the two women he was grinding with to check his phone. He typed quickly and then returned to dancing. A few moments later, Jason's phone vibrated in his hand.

_After this song, babe_

Obnoxious shit. “He'll be right over,” Jason told Celia. She didn't look impressed.

They watched for a moment as Dick danced, before Celia stepped away. “Send him to my table,” she said, pointing to where another young woman was sitting. She was beautiful and poised, with dark hair and eyes. As he watched a handsome blond man joined the table too.

Jason nodded and went back to staring at the throng of people surrounding Dick as impassively as he could. He was fairly sure the dance Dick was doing with the two hot girls was illegal in some states.

True to his word, when the song changed, Dick wound his way back over to Jason. When he reached him, instead of stopping and interacting like a normal person he threw his arms round Jason's shoulders and nuzzled into his neck. He was sweaty and gross and the experience of getting a full body hug off him should have been disgusting, but it wasn't.

“Ms Denbury and her attractive companions want to make your acquaintance,” Jason said into Dick's ear.

Dick shifted against him, his sweaty hair brushing against Jason's cheek. “Well let’s not disappoint them, lead on.”

They were introduced as Sofia, an Italian national, and Jack, a fellow American with a penchant for boasting about his daddy's oil business and political leanings. Dick grinned and flirted with all three while Jason stood silent and watchful to the side. He kept a particular eye on Denbury, she appeared to be the leader and was still giving off an unsettling vibe.

When they finally stumbled out of the club at five am, with promises to meet again the following evening, Jason was pretty certain this were the group they were after, or at least somehow connected to them.

Dick leaned against him tiredly as he hailed a black cab and Jason resisted the urge to lend him a supportive arm. He was an expert at faking drinking and drunkenness, but the sheer volume of alcohol consumed by the group meant he had imbued more than he normally would and was teetering on the edge of a genuine drunk.

“You holding up okay?” Jason asked grudgingly as the cab took them towards their hotel.

“Just about. I really hate these people,” Dick admitted. “And alcohol just makes me sleepy.”

“Well we can have a lie in tomorrow, we're not meeting the rich brats until close to midnight. We could catch a show or something, cause a bit of mayhem at the theatre.”

“Raunchy sex in the Royal Box?”

“Let's not get carried away, Dick-face.”

Dick chuckled and relaxed against him. “You think we're on the right track with these three?”

“Yeah, there's something about them that gets my back up – more than the usual feckless over spending and arrogance.”

“Same,” Dick yawned, wide like a cat and not bothering to cover his mouth. “We're working together quite well I think?” It was more of a question than a statement. 

“You're less annoying when you're drunk,” Jason said. Dick smirked but otherwise didn't react to his answer, so he left it at that.

 

They met the Rich Brats at an exclusive members club after dinner and the theatre, Dick had slept through most of the production of King Lear, but Jason had enjoyed it. Entry to the club had been arranged by Garner who had shmoosed with Dick and Sleezed at Jason until he had considered stepping on Garner’s foot by accident and maybe breaking a few toes with his steel capped boots.

The club was dark and lit by candles, surely a fire hazard with all the drunk morons milling about. The furniture was also dark, with stained wood and black velvet. Private rooms consisted of huge sofas that looked more like beds, covered in gold trimmed cushions. The effect was plush and inviting, and also completely ridiculous.

Dick kicked off his shoes with the rest of them and sprawled over the sofa like he belonged there. His socks while both blue, were also slightly odd, it was likely he had just flung his clothes into his suitcase without matching them. It was irrationally irritating to Jason, who scowled at the offending footwear.

 

After an hour of watching them flirt and boast Jason was ready to set the place on fire. He was keeping himself entertained by obsessing over Dick's sock based transgressions, but even that had worn a little thin. If these mooks didn't take the bait soon he was going to just shoot them and let that be the end of it. Thankfully, Celia seemed to be finding Richard Grayson a little grating, judging by the set of her jaw and seemed keen to reel him in as quickly as possible.

“Richie, darling,” She smiled up at him as he waved his hands about in apparent drunken abandon. “We're having such fun together, I don't want it to end!”

She didn't look like she was having fun, she looked like a cat looked at an unsuspecting but infuriating mouse.

“It's been a riot!” Dick agreed, his hair was a mess, and his cheeks were flushed with the champagne. They had agreed that Jason was going to have to be his bodyguard for real, as getting tipsy was unavoidable. Dick had been shamefaced, like he was admitting some great weakness instead of taking sensible precautions, it had made Jason want to kick him, but now as he watched, he was alarmed to find himself feeling fond.

Celia leaned in, with an artfully placed hand on Dick's wrist. “We have a house by the coast. It's one of daddy’s smaller estates. We were going to go spend the week there. Have some drinks, perhaps get high. Would you like to join us? Even just for a weekend. I'm sure we'll have fun.” The way she drew out the word left little to the imagination in regards to the type of 'fun' on offer.

“We'd love to, wouldn't we, Jase?” Dick grinned at Jason drunkenly, but his eyes were sharp and suddenly clear.

Unsure of how to reply Jason just grunted in acknowledgement.

“Why don't you give Jase the week off?” Sofia said, leaning into Dick's space and practically oozing sex at him. She was hot. Very, very hot, and in other circumstances she was the kind of girl Jason would expect Dick to go for, but in these circumstances it felt like confirmation they were on the right track Why else make the bodyguard/boytoy stay behind?

“Nah, I mean, why not let him join in the fun? He's certainly earned it! And he's up for it, aren't you, Jase?”

“Sure,” Jason agreed non-committally.

Jack leaned forward on Dick's other side and ran a hand up his thigh. “If that's the sort of thing you're after, I'm sure I could provide,” he said.

Dick grinned stupidly at him, “Why not both!” he said, giddily, “You might enjoy it too.” He lowered his voice to a stage whisper, “His cock is as big as the rest of him.”

Jason was glad of the dimly lit room as he was fairly sure he was embarrassing himself by blushing.

“Well,” Celia began, obviously not pleased with Dick's obliviousness.

Dick waved a hand at her before she could object, “It sounds like a _blast_ , let’s do it! A week by the great British coast, blue sea, white sand...it will be wonderful!” he said.

Jason thought Dick might be being a bit optimistic about the state of the English coastline, but found he really enjoyed the expressions of exasperated irritation on the gang’s pretty little faces. They didn't know Dick had been trained by the best - nobody could drive people to the edge of despair by the power of being incredibly annoying the way Brucie could when dealing with his peers. But Dick had been a good study.

“So is this place the Denbury Estate? Or does it have a quaint name? I hear the British like to name their houses,” Dick slurred at her with a toothy grin. Jason got the distinct impression he enjoyed getting up her nose and making her jaw twitch with suppressed anger.

“Pheasant Field Estate.” She looked aggravated, but resigned.

“Amazing! More drinks?”

 

“We'll do some research, see if this lot are who they say they are,” Dick said before flopping back on the bed. “Or we could just get Tim to do it. Hanging out with that bunch of vipers is more exhausting than doing patrol until 5am and then getting up for work at 8.”

“Poor you, drinking champagne worth more than the entire contents of my apartment. Boohoo.” Jason kicked his boots off and lay on the plush bed next to Dick, flipping open his laptop to get to work.

Dick gave him the finger, but did pull his tablet over from where it had been discarded on the nightstand. “Fine, you take Jack, I'll have a bash at Celia. They we can both attempt Sofia, I don't think my brain can cope with translating Italian records.”

“That's what google translate is for, Dick” Jason said snidely, as he began his own search.

 

They worked in silence for an hour, before Jason felt he had enough information to share. He was pretty certain they were right about these people. “I've checked up on Jack, and frankly, he's either a complete fantasist or a shit liar.”

“Possibly both?”

“Probably both. What have you got?”

“I have Celia Denbruy. There are records of her existence and her attending Cambridge University, but there are no images of her in most of the official records I could find. She has plenty on Instagram, but it’s all fairly new, only a couple of months old. Although it is made to appear older. And ‘Pheasant Field Estate' has no records going back more than a month, despite it having a web page and an entry on wiki. In fact a reverse image search shows the house in the picture is actually a seventeenth century mansion house called Seaville, available to rent for days or weeks for up to twenty guests. For a very large sum, of course.”

“Spend money to get money. I think these are our guys. Ready to pass a week of fun times with them, _Richie_?”

“Yay, I can't wait,” Dick sounded like he would rather be getting a root canal. ”There is something that's bugging me though,”

“That this is all a bit sophisticated for these bunch of fools?”

“Yeah, I feel like they're bait rather than the masterminds of million dollar thefts. And there's real anger and sadism behind the attacks that follow, something I didn't really get from them.”

“Celia, or whoever she is, she's cold. I could see her being into it.”

“Maybe, I don't think she would care about people getting hurt, or doing the hurting herself to get what she wanted, but I feel like her interest is with the money. She's mercenary, but not an outright sexual sadist.”

“I guess we'll see.”

“I guess we will.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

“Oh, it’s very rustic!” Dick said, as the limo drew up the grand sweeping driveway.

The place was a damn castle, with an actual turret. Jason tried not to be impressed. “When was it built?” he asked Celia, opening the car door for her. He was curious to know if she had bothered even doing any research about the place.

“Mid Seventeen Hundreds,” she said primly, as she disembarked. Her designer heels crunched menacingly as she stalked towards the house. It seemed Richie Grayson had been getting on her nerves during the long, sober drive from London. At least Dick seemed to be in better spirits, getting under the skin of this little gang of thieves seemed to have improved his mood immensely, and he was practically swaggering towards the house.

“That's kind of old isn't it?” Dick said, in his most obnoxious, dumb-ass tone. “I would have thought your dad would have bought something a little newer, more spunky? Bruce got me an island for my eightieth. A private getaway, you know? But it was kind of shit, so I sold it for a penthouse in New York and a jet.”

Celia forced her mouth into something that resembled a smile, but she still looked like she was thinking about gutting him and possibly setting fire to his innards.

Sofia came to the rescue and draped herself over Dick's arm while she smoldered up at him. “Tell me more about your travels.”

Dick launched into a hugely embellished story about how he had once met the Queen. Jason noticed he left out the fact that he had been ten and had spilled juice down his shirt. Bruce seemed to remember that incident fondly, although at the time they had spoken about it, Jason had felt he had been _really_ glad it had been Dick who had been on that trip with him. He remembered how that had stung, even though he didn’t _want_ to go see some stuck-up old lady in her big stupid palace. He had spent so much time consumed with jealousy and fear of not being good enough, just remembering it made Jason’s chest ache with its echoes.

As they entered the foyer, a tall man came to greet them. “Celia, you brought guests,” he said, smiling insincerely. His eyes lingered on Jason with cool assessment.

“Henry! I didn't realise you would be here!” Celia said, unconvincingly. “This is my brother Henry. Are you here with friends too?”

“Yes, just four of us, but we'll stay out of your way. I'm sure you kids want to have fun.”

He didn't look like her brother, he looked like a bouncer or hired muscle, a mercenary maybe. He moved like a fighter, confident, and like he was used to packing a gun. Unusual for a Brit who wasn't attached to armed police or the military.

Things were taking shape now. They had armed back up and an isolated environment to work with so it probably wouldn’t be long until things kicked off. Hopefully he and Dick would be ready for them.

 

Jason was given his own room, but he chose to join Dick in his while he 'rested' after the trip. They chatted about the estate, their plans and casually flirted, while carrying on a second conversation via text. Until they could check for hidden cameras and bugs there was no point in taking chances.

_So, research house then snooping?_ Dick wrote, while glibly commenting on the twee furnishings in the room.

_find me blueprints while i check for bugs_

Jason scanned the room using the Wayne Tech installed in his phone. He detected what appeared to be a crude camera in the light fixture and a recording device under the bedside cabinet. He texted as much to Dick. It was going to be difficult to cover the camera subtly – Jason had a brief vision of tearing Dick's shirt off and flinging it over the light shade, but it was unlikely to actually work in any convincing manner. They were going to have to work fast or things might get awkward, if not downright fucked up.

“If you're going to nap, then I'll take a look round the grounds if you don't mind?” Jason said out loud.

“Cool, wear your jacket, it’s pretty chilly out. I thought we could go to the beach, but it's freezing!” Dick pouted.

“It's England in May, Richie, not exactly the Bahamas.” Jason didn't bother to hide his peeved tone, he didn't need Dick reminding him how to do his damn job, of course he would wear his own, armoured jacket, that was the whole point of bringing it. Although they worked well together, Dick did have a tenancy to drive Jason insane, especially when it came to his duel inclinations towards being both bossy, overbearing and a mother hen.

Still, he felt good putting on his real gear, the weight of it was comforting. His pockets were filled with electrical goodies for planting his own bugs and he felt his mood lift slightly. He was looking forward to getting this wrapped up and hopefully cracking a few heads in the process.

He headed out into the gardens first, checking carefully for surveillance. They hadn't set much up - very sloppy and overconfident. If 'Henry' was a merc, he was a piss poor example of one.

He did a circuit of the house, first he went through what would in summer no doubt be an impressive rose garden, then across a perfect lawn of fresh green grass that smelt like heaven after a week of bar rooms and sweaty drunks. From the edge of the lawn he could see what looked to be a freaking hedge maze, and beyond that, cliffs and the sea.

Finally he made his way back towards the small back courtyard and headed back inside via the terrace. He had yet to see anyone, either the brats or the hired muscle, so he cautiously but casually investigated the lower floors. He planted a few bugs, and mentally marked the location of any he had located during his search. The two rooms he most needed to enter were the master bedroom and the lower office, where he suspected the gang was hanging out and plotting. But there would be time for that later.

 

He headed back out to the gardens with his cigarettes, making it obvious he was going for a smoke, although the artifice was kind of pointless, nobody seemed to give a shit what he was doing. He easily avoided the crappy surveillance outside and headed towards where the blueprints told him the office was. He wouldn't have a chance to get inside for a while, but he could still gather some intel. He positioned himself by the window and switched on his ear bud, then used a small but powerful microphone to pick up the conversation inside.

“Why the fuck is the bodyguard here?” That sounded like 'Henry'.

“Because Richie Rich is fucking him and can't stand to be separated for a single day.” Celia's voice snapped.

“You know we will have to kill him, it's going to get fucking messy.”

They had no idea _how_ messy. Jason idly wished he could just whack the lot of them, no further investigation, no proof to stand up in court, no more dealing with all of these fuckheads. But the tenuous relationship that had formed between himself and Bruce, and even with Dick, was not something he actually wanted to sacrifice, or at least not for these bunch of morons

“It could work in our favour,” Celia said, jarring Jason from his murderous daydreams.

“I don't see how, and we've never killed a mark before, let alone two.” That was Jack.

“We will do what we have to,” Celia said. “The thing is, Bruce Wayne might be a drunken perv most of the time, but when it comes to business he's very shrewd. He has declared no ransom should be paid in the event of his own kidnap. The few times he has paid a ransom for someone else, he's got his money back after the fact through hiring people to hunt the perps down.”

Maybe she was the brains behind the operation after all. Actually doing research. One point to House Denbury.

“So, what are you saying is ransom is out, so we kill them? Do you think that will make Wayne _less_ likely to come after us?” Jack said, he sounded aggravated, killing was apparently a step too far for him. Or maybe it was the thought of the help that Bruce allegedly 'hired.'

“Not necessarily, it's the loss of face he hates rather than the money, he and Grayson aren't exclusive. He's probably too old for Wayne's tastes anyway, he just keeps him in fast cars and booze in order to keep him quiet. If we clean out his accounts it will still be a huge score, and we’ll probably be doing Wayne a favour if we kill him.”

No points to Denbury for that one. But it probably made scene to her icy-cold, sociopathic little brain.

“But Ed wants him first, doesn't he? He said we should wait until he gets here before drugging them, so he can do his thing,” Jack said.

“Fucking pervert,” Henry muttered, sourly. “He's a sick freak.”

“Be that as it may, he can have his fun after we get Grayson’s account details. Then we make it look like a murder-suicide. They have a horrible breakup - the bodyguard gets fed up with Richie’s philandering ways, kills his erstwhile lover and then himself.”

“It’s hardly Romeo and Juliet,” Jack said petulantly.

“It hardly needs to be. Wayne may look into it, but he won’t come after us the same way as he would with blackmail. I stake my life on it.”

“You’re sure he and Grayson aren’t a thing any more? He _will_ be pissed if we kill his boyfriend.”

“He has at least two younger boys already in his house. I looked into it carefully. Grayson is nothing but an expensive liability. This is perfect.”

Jason wondered just how many people actually believed the slander that just skirted the edge of a lawsuit in some of the shadier gossip mags. It was strangely upsetting.

“You’re forgetting one important thing,” Sofia’s lightly accented voice said. “The police will look into it, and they will discover the missing money. It will be obvious it was more than just a lovers tiff.”

“So we invent a third party. Lay a trail and let them follow that. Then we can head to the continent to lay low and consider our next target.”

“It’s agreed then. Tonight or tomorrow,” Henry said.

“Tomorrow gives us time to prepare. But we should speak to Ed tonight, I’m not sure when he’s due to arrive.”

“He’s the one who’s going to fuck this operation up, you know that right?” Henry said, “His sick games have no place in this.”

“He gets us access, so we need him.”

“If you say so,” Henry said, even more sour than before.

 

The television was on loudly, but Dick was somehow actually napping when Jason returned to the room. He woke up when Jason tossed his jacket onto the chair, toed off his boots and slid into the bed with him. He pulled Dick close and buried his nose in his thick hair, which smelt like the expensive sandalwood shampoo from the hotel. The position of Jason’s face conveniently hid the movement of his lips, and put his mouth close to Dick’s ear so he could whisper low enough the sound of the TV would cover his words even if the microphone was a powerful one, which he doubted, but it never hurt to be careful.

“They’re planning to kill us rather than blackmail Bruce,” he whispered, and felt Dick shiver slightly in response to the hot breath on his skin.

“Mmm, nice,” Dick purred pushing back against Jason and making him inhale sharply.

“Garner’s in on it, he’s the sexual sadist, although the others go along with it. They’re going to kick things off quick, tonight or tomorrow – when he gets here.”

Dick turned in his arms and kissed his way up Jason's neck, open mouthed and sloppy. Jason had to take a moment to remind his body he was working and not playing. When he reached Jason's ear, Dick whispered, “We need info from their laptop, for proof. When we have that, we can call the cops and be done with it.”

Jason returned the favour, nuzzling against him in a way he had never imagined himself doing – even in his guilty fantasies it was all rough fucking and lacking affection. This was horribly nice and Jason once again forced his wandering mind, and body, back to work. “It’s risky, splitting up – you’ll have to distract them while I get the info,” he said.

“So be quick, I can’t refuse food or drink without appearing suspicious, and if they decide to dose me I'll be useless – you’ll have to look after me.”

To Jason’s slightly addled mind that sounded rather suggestive, at least when Dick was all but sucking on his earlobe. “I will,” he replied, in a slightly breathy voice.

He could feel Dick grin against his skin, the bastard knew exactly what he was doing. In retaliation Jason dragged his teeth across Dick’s throat, pausing to bite gently at his Adam’s apple before kissing up to his other ear. “ _I will_ ,” he said again, firmly. Then he was suddenly flat on his back and Dick was straddling his waist, looking rumpled and beautiful.

“Lets save it for later,” Dick said, his voice husky. He gave a sinful roll of his hips, that despite appearances, didn’t actually make contact with Jason's crotch.

Jason sucked in a breath, and smiled cockily up at him. He had to get his own mind focused on the job. Despite his teasing, Dick was all business and was doing his best to respect Jason's perceived boundaries, avoiding actual sexual contact while maintaining the illusion of it. They probably should have spoken about it previously, on the off chance there were cameras – how far would they go? There were ways around it of course, without having to have fake sex, or have actual sex, and Jason had to firmly pull his mind out the gutter _again_. If they didn’t get what they needed tonight and had to continue this charade, then Dick getting wasted and passing out would be the logical way to deal with it. Yup. That was going to be the plan. Assuming the brats weren't actually expecting an orgy.

Dick smiled down at him, expression sharp and almost challenging, then to Jason’s relief he swung his legs off the bed and stood, stretching with his arms up and his lean back twisting to the side with a sinuous motion.

“So, Jase, you want to come to dinner?” 

“Do I have to?” Jason asked petulantly. “You know I hate having to sit and watch these things, I fucking hate rich people.”

Dick laughed, there was an edge of mockery to it. “You like me well enough.”

“I like _fucking_ you, Richie.”

Dick laughed again and strode over, all confidence and predatory grace, then he grabbed Jason's jaw and kissed him hard on the lips. It was possessive, more like a dog marking its territory than anything romantic. Jason's pants felt suddenly very tight.

“You’ll join us after though, won’t you? They’re all hot, right? I’m sure the evening will bring some perks,” Dick said.

“They are an attractive bunch, even that brother of hers.”

Dick leaned down over him again, eyes bright and intense. “You can play with the girls, but out of the guys, you only fuck me, no one else. Understand?”

“Yeah,” Jason somehow managed to say without embarrassing himself. It wasn’t clear to him if Dick knew the effect he was having with this sudden random improv. Jason was a bit surprised himself.

 

After Dick went to dinner, Jason did another circuit of the grounds and house, this time tagging heat signatures. The office was clear, so he figured it was a good opportunity to get in and get into their computer system.

Their security was sloppy for someone of his calibre, and easily disabled. Once into the room he had a very quick look through the draws and loose papers, but there was nothing of any real value, so he turned his attention to the laptop. He hooked up his tablet and got to work cracking the security – it was surprisingly hard, considering how poor the rest of it was, someone was clearly very good with this side of things. He was better, of course, but he was rather tight on time.

His phone buzzed with Dick checking in.

_all good. Weird vibe. Heard car in drive they said it was staff, check out?_

Jason was starting to get that tingle of intuition that suggested this might all go to shit at any moment. After a brief internal debate he pinged Tim.

“Jason?” Tim’s voice was groggy like he had just woken up.

“Sleeping the day away? Tut tut, what would Daddy say.”

“I work nights, Jason. Double time at the moment due to everyone having broken limbs. What do you want?”

“You got a program that can get us into this system quick? I can do it, but time is of the essence as I suspect Dick might need back up soon.”

“Email me what you have and I'll see what I can do.”

Jason did so, and then went back to poking around the room while Tim muttered about codes and hacks in his ear. He found an interesting array of weaponry poorly concealed under the bed. Two pistols with silencers, a selection of vials with a clear liquid inside, a hypodermic needle that looked more like an instrument of torture than a medical device, and what looked like a dart gun – the kind vets used to anaesthetise wily zoo animals. He pondered for a moment, weighing up the likelihood that things would kick off today, and then emptied both guns and pocketed the bullets, then disabled the rest. He took a sample of the drugs too, for future analysis.

“Any joy?” he asked Tim.

“I know this work, it would have been harder than you might expect to gain access. It’s written by a hacker known as BellaCiao2000. That’s the name of an Italian partisan song.”

“Yes I know what it is, you little nerd. And I think I can hazard a guess which of our little gang of thieves is our techie.”

“Send me their info, I’d love to tangle with them again.” he sounded wide awake and interested now. Dork.

“In more ways than one, she’s smoking hot, if you like that sort of thing. She’s known only as Sofia among this bunch, I don’t have any idea who she is really. Perhaps you’ll have better luck.” He sent the info across, just as Tim cracked the code and the laptop opened up to reveal its secrets. It wasn’t particularly interesting stuff, but there should be enough to be incriminating. Tim stayed on the line, while Jason worked, delving into Sofia’s background.

Jason's phone bleeped again:

_Think drufs duckingmice tho_

That did not sound good: Either Dick was sitting on his phone, he was having trouble typing or he was off his face. Possibly all three.

“Tim, looks like that back up might be needed now. I gotta go. Can you deal with this crap for me and get anything interesting to the British police, and Interpol maybe. These chumps are global.” 

“Yeah, I can monitor things from this end too. Go rescue your damsel in distress.”

“I’m telling him you said that.” Jason rang off and packed up his gear as quick as possible. He didn’t bother covering his tracks too well, he trusted Tim to have ferreted out what they needed and having this wrapped up before it became an issue. He checked his watch. Two hours since he had separated from Dick. One hour since his coherent check in, fifteen minutes since the nonsense one, which Jason had loosely translated to mean: 'I think I’m on drugs, it’s fucking nice though.'

It was too long, fifteen minutes in an altered state with a bunch of potential sexual predators and indifferent sociopaths was an alarming length of time. Especially if that car Dick had mentioned earlier had been Garner.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we come to the part with the amazing prompt art by the amazing Pentapus!   
> (find it at the end of the chapter)

 

He found them in the small sitting room. Dick was sprawled in a chair, glassy eyed and sweating while Sofia unbuttoned his shirt. He didn’t look like he minded, but he also looked completely wasted on whatever they had given him. 

Jason paused to assess, moving too soon might not be the best option, but waiting while they molested Dick was not an easy choice to make, and went against every instinct he had. He grit his teeth as Sofia tugged on Dick's hair, manoeuvring him for a kiss. The new position of his face meant Jason was now in his line of sight and he suddenly attempted to sit up, dislodging the girl with ease. “Jay! I’m on drugs!” he said, happily.

Thanks Dick. Who needs the element of surprise anyway? Unfortunately, Celia seemed to agree and she stepped forward and pressed the muzzle of a small but powerful handgun to Dick’s sweaty temple. His eyes crossed as he tried to look at it. The expression was daft and annoyingly adorable. Jason had clearly lost all control over his hormones on this trip.

“Don’t even think about it, Jase,” Celia said. “Hands on your head and step forward.”

Jason sighed and did as he was told. He could still gain the upper hand in a couple of moves, but he needed to play it carefully as Dick was clearly out of his mind and might accidentally stumble into a bullet if they started shooting. Better to play it safe.

“Listen, Ms Denbury. I don’t give a shit what you do, you want to rob him? Blackmail the old man? Go for it, I’m not going to stop you. We'll do what you say.”

“Your cooperation would benefit us both,” she said, pleased. “Put these cuffs on.” She chucked him a pair of simple handcuffs. They really were ridiculously sloppy. He cuffed his own wrists in front of himself and rested his hands casually in his lap. He could wait for the right moment.

“Hello, Jason!” Dick said, as Sofia slipped his shirt over his shoulders, revealing the myriad of scars across his torso.

“Whoa,” Jack said.

Sofia ran her fingers across a healed gash that bisected Dicks left nipple. Her brows creased in confusion.

“This shit isn’t normal, what the fuck?” Jack said, wide eyed.

Time for damage control, the last thing Jason needed was for them to get twitchy and trigger happy. “Don’t you people read the tabloids?” he said, scornfully. “He got kidnapped and tortured as a kid. Why do you think he drinks so damn much?”

“That’s why Wayne is so ruthless about kidnap attempts,” Celia added, knowingly, clearly pleased her previous research was being backed up.

“Yeah, although he might pay up for his golden boy – but then again he might also chase you to the ends of the earth.”

Jack looked uncertain, like he actually had a brain cell and realised that attacking the family of a billionaire with connections to both the police and access to mercenary types, might be a bit of a bad idea.

Then the door opened, Henry and Garner entered with a gust of sea air. The mood in the room shifted subtly, and Jason found himself tensing. This was the real predator in the group and his gaze was flicking between Dick and Jason like a cat torn between two weak and tasty looking mice.

“Wayne has other boys,” Garner said, by way of greeting. “He seems to like them younger.” He reached out and ran his fingers though Dick's damp hair, and the drugged up moron leaned into the touch. Garner looked over his scars with interest but not a great deal of surprise, his expression was almost reverent, like they just made Dick more attractive somehow.

“Yeah, but he is fond of Richard,” Jason said, managing to keep his voice even as he watched Garner trail his fingers over Dick’s skin.

“It doesn’t bother you?” Celia asked curiously.

Jason shrugged. “Not my business. He pays me to keep an eye on Richie here, and to try to keep him out of trouble and that’s it. What the old man does and with who is irrelevant.”

“Not doing such a good job, are you?” Garner said. He was watching Jason as he pressed his lips to Dick's jaw, hoping for a reaction. Dick turned into it, allowing the fucker to kiss him fully. It looked deep and wet and turned Jason's stomach. He clenched his fists and willed himself to remain calm. Celia still had her gun aimed at Dick’s head and Henry was watching Jason carefully, the only one who seemed to view him as a threat.

“Although,” Garner continued, as he pulled away. “I can see how you might let yourself get distracted. I met Richard and Wayne once, at a function in New York. He was about fourteen or fifteen, small for his age, ridiculously pretty. None of the usual awkwardness at that age. When I shook his hand I noticed faint bruises on his wrist, and at the juncture of his throat. I wanted him, I knew he would be perfect. Wayne wouldn’t let him out of his sight though.” He skimmed the scar over Dick’s nipple. “And I can see he wasn't gentle. The kid took a lot of damage it seems.”

Jason snorted, his anger levels were not far away from boiling over. “And now, years later you have your shot at him. How lovely. Of course you have to use drugs, rather than just force.” Jason couldn't keep the disgust from his voice, for some reason it seemed to get up Garners nose and he pulled away from Dick to get in Jason's face instead.

“You have a smart tongue for someone completely in my power,” he said. It might have been menacing to someone who wasn’t Jason.

“And you're a grandstanding creep,” Jason snapped, he’d been dealing with more frightening people when he was still in diapers.

Garner slapped him hard across the face. Jason rolled with the blow, it was barely a love tap, but it did help him get his mouth under control. He had to play by their rules for now.

Dick didn’t get that memo though, and he suddenly shot to his feet and pointed a finger, slurring loudly, “Stop! Don’t hit him, you fuck-face!” Then he fell over his own feet, face first onto the plush carpet.

“Is he okay?” Jason asked when Dick didn’t immediately get back up. He was oddly touched that his being smacked around by a Z list criminal inspired Dick’s protective instincts despite the amount of drugs in his system. Or because of them.

Garner nudged Dick onto his back using the toe of his expensive loafer.

Dick blinked blearily up at him. “Did someone hit me?” he asked. “My face hurts.”

“You fell on it,” Jason told him mildly. “Defending my honour.”

Dick smiled up at him from his position on the floor. “When did you get so big, Jaybird? And so hot? You were so scrawny, all gangly with giant hands and feet like a Great Dane puppy.”

“Just how long have you two known each other?” Celia asked, suspiciously.

“A long time,” Jason told her, with only the slightest hint of scorn.

“Oh? How do a rich bitch like Grayson and a nobody like you meet?”

“He wasn’t always a rich bitch. He was just another little orphan like me. Except prettier, so he got life with a billionaire and I got to stay in the group home,” Jason lied effortlessly.

“That's really sad,” Dick said, mournful. “I'm sorry, Jay.”

Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes and kept his expression hard.

“Enough of this nonsense,” Garner said. “Let’s get the bank details off him and then get on with things.”

Things. That was one way to put it. Jason leaned forward slightly. “That sounds ominous. If all you want is access to his bank accounts, I can provide what you need. All I care about is keeping my hide in one piece and getting Richard back to Daddy so I get paid.”

“You’ll just give us the information?”

“Yeah, why not? Safeguarding the Wayne millions isn't my job. And this counts as under duress in any case. “

“We will check, and we will seriously hurt you both if you mess us about.”

Scary stuff. He was shivering in his boots. He managed to hold back the aggrieved sigh he desperately wanted to heave and gave them the information of the very convincing but very fake account they had set up in preparation for something like this happening. And Celia, Sofia and Jack took their leave, presumably to go though the info and transfer the cash.

That left them with Henry and Garner.

Henry had a slightly disgusted look on his face, he clearly found Garner’s sadistic games distasteful. “If you’re going to play with Richie Rich here, then I'll take Jason elsewhere,” he said.

Jason suspected 'elsewhere' meant: out back for a bullet to the brain. But either way he wasn't going to leave Dick alone with Garner in this state, not even for the five minutes it would take to dispose of Henry.

“No, I want him to watch,” Garner said. His particular perversions coming to the rescue, not often you could say sexual sadism saved the day.

Henry sneered. “As you please, _I’m_ not going to though, so you best let me secure him a bit better.”

Garner nodded absently, he had Dick off the floor and back in the chair. Although Dick was no longer being compliant and was scowling like a pouty puppy. Probably still angry about Jason being slapped earlier, which was very endearing, despite the circumstances.

Henry approached and Jason kept himself still, ignoring what was happening across the room with some difficulty. “Why do you put up with this nasty ass shit?” he asked quietly, trying to get more of a measure of the man.

“Same reason you do. Money.” He held a gun to Jason's head and forced him to his feet, before leading him to the heavy side table. He undid Jason's cuffs and redid them behind him before using a second pair and attaching him to the solid oak table.

“I'll be just outside, Garner. Shout if you need assistance.”

It took Jason thirty seconds to get the cuffs off, about as long as it took Garner to fail get control of Dick, who was trying to shove him away with all the strength of a kitten – but he was a kitten with some serious training and Garner was bleeding from the mouth where he had been bitten or scratched. He smacked Dick open handed with a blow that wouldn't even have registered for Nightwing but sent drugged up Richie sprawling across the floor. It was at about that point that Jason decided Garner was going to have to die.

Dick seemed stunned by his fall to the carpet and was curled up, facing away when Jason struck, he snapped Garner’s neck with a powerful punch and twist - not an easy move, but a brutally effective one he’d learnt from teachers he’d later put down like the scum they were.

He carefully lowered Garner’s dead weight to the floor. The guy deserved to die, and Jason felt nothing about the action itself, only a fission of regret for the arguments and stupidity that were sure to follow. But he would deal with the Bat fallout later, he didn’t have time to fight with Dick right now.

Thankfully Dick hadn’t actually noticed and was still on the floor, he appeared to be rubbing his bruised cheek on the carpet, perhaps enjoying the sensation the drugs caused him to have at the action. “Come on, Dickie,” Jason said, pulling him to his feet. “We gotta run, okay?”

“Jay, I missed you when you were dead.”

Jason blinked at him. “That’s nice? Can we go?” he said at last and Dick allowed himself to be supported as he wobbled into motion. He swayed and caught hold of Jason's jacket, burying his face in the leather with a sigh.

Jason heaved a sigh of his own. They were a long way from being out of the woods yet, and he was going to have to get them there because being taken down by this bunch of incompetent morons was just too embarrassing to contemplate. Thankfully with the blueprints in mind he knew the location to the wine cellar – there was no knowing how long they would have until their absence was noticed, so the quicker they got there the better.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Of course, then it all went to shit.

Jason stared at the little dart. Fired by one of those high-tech tranq guns, clearly one he hadn't found and disabled. He didn't know how long the drug took to make you a dopey over-friendly mess, but he suspected it wasn't going to be enough time to get them both to safety.

Fuck this, fuck these people.

He had to give it his best shot though, the embarrassment of being killed by these jerks would haunt him all the way back to the afterlife.

He focused on controlling his breathing in an attempt to slow the passage of the drug though his system, it wasn't much but he was hoping it would gain him a little extra time. He could hear Dick breathing, even and relaxed somewhere to his right, it was calming and helped him steady himself.

Jason felt along the walls by the door, looking for a switch. His fingers felt cheap plastic and with a quick prayer that the electrics were working he flicked the lights on. The dusty bulb flickered to life with the buzz of poor wiring. Jason counted his blessings and took stock of what the cellar had to offer. It was big and dirty, full of chairs and old furniture rather than bottles.

“Dick, help move this in front of the door,” he said, gesturing to the biggest thing he could see that might be draggable.

Dick nodded and started tugging the old wooden chest without question. Jason debated helping, but decided that the exertion would just make the drug affect him faster. He could already feel changes in his system, they didn't have much time left for him to be making sensible decisions. He left Dick to it and had a quick poke around. He found the door that hopefully led to the smugglers’ cave, but it was locked and rusted shut. It was going to be a bitch to get through it, especially while keeping his heart rate down.

Thankfully, Jason was pretty damn good at breaking and entering, having learnt way before being trained by Bruce. He just needed a few tools and a bit of time.

As he worked on the door he was vaguely aware that Dick was still piling crap in front of the entrance hatch. Apparently one of the effects of the drug was suggestibility, it made sense to help get the victim’s bank details and pacify them for the assaults that came after. Jason shuddered remembering Garner's hands on Dick's skin and the way he had looked at them both. He was glad he had killed the fucker.

Jason was feeling distinctly floaty by the time he got the door open, and there was banging on the hatch that Dick had barricaded. Definitely time to go. But first he had a last hunt through the piles of junk, looking for something he could write with. He hit pay dirt with not only a slightly cracked ballpoint pen but also a pad of paper. He wrote himself a short note in big letters, hoping it would be enough to remind him to get away and not do anything too stupid.

“Come on, Dickie, let’s run for it,” he said, heading into the dark tunnel.

Dick trotted along behind him, still oddly passive, while Jason shuddered his way through the drug hitting his system in waves of shivery pleasure. Everything seemed _more_ , it was _better_ somehow _._ There was no light, but his eyes provided spinning colours though the darkness and the feel of the slightly slimy wall under his fingers shot sensation through his hands. Even the damp, salty smell of the rocks and sand felt amazing when he breathed it. Dick had been right, this shit _was_ fucking nice.

When they emerged at the beach it was almost dark, but the clear sky and last vestige of the setting sun gave them just enough light to see by. It was beautiful; not the white sand and blue sea Dick had been hoping for, but a collection of rocks and a swirling, brown-grey maelstrom of waves and flecks of sea foam.

Dick whooped and ran straight for it, leaping about in the wild surf in his expensive leather shoes. Jason watched him indulgently. He wondered why it had taken him so long to realise how lovely Dick was, he had always thought he was hot, obviously, and always kind of wanted to hit that, but he had never let himself look further than his good looks. It was a damn shame, because there was clearly a lot more to see.

He sat down in the wet sand, enjoying the cold as it soaked through his pants, sending little sparks up to his brain and making him shiver pleasantly. He could sit here for days, watching Dick play in the sea and enjoying the feeling of the breeze on his face and the chill water beginning to lap at his ankles.

His neck was kind of itchy though, but when he went to scratch it, he discovered he was holding a bit of scrunched up paper. It was all crinkly and Jason liked the way it sounded when he waved it around, which he did for a while, until he noticed there was writing on it.

 

_You are on drugs, bad guys are after you, keep running or they will kill you and Dick and every thing will suck._

_Love, Jason_

 

Oh no.

Jason did not want the bad guys to kill them, especially now he knew how nice Dick was, so he wobbled to his feet and staggered further into the sea to make a grab for him, he missed the first time and nearly fell over, but he caught hold of his cold, slippery arm in his second attempt.

“Dickie, we gotta go,” he said, his voice sounded funny, slow and sticky like molasses.

“Where?” Dick asked, his hair was wet and his face was full of trust and joy.

Jason grabbed him and pulled him close, he wanted to see if he could suck the expression from his skin. When he tried he could just taste the salt of the sea. It was good, and he licked the water off Dick's lips. He found it was warmed from the heat of him, Dick gasped and pulled him in, kissing him hungrily. Jason melted into the sensation as little sparks of brightness and shivers kicked off in his brain. The warmth from Dick's body was so good with the cold of the water moving around his knees.

This was so awesome.

When he brought his hands up to try and bring Dick even closer, he noticed something in his fingers – a bit of paper.

The note! He was on drugs and bad guys wanted to kill them. “We have to go!” he said, as Dick's cool fingers found their way under his shirt.

“Kissing’s more fun.”

Jason was inclined to agree, but Dick would be a lot less fun to kiss if he was dead, and whoever wrote the note seemed very sure of themselves – presumably it was himself or another man called Jason. It was a pretty common name.

But anyway, getting killed was a terrible plan, so.

“Kiss after running,” he managed.

“More than kissing, I want to fuck you.”

Jason almost allowed himself to get distracted by that. “After running,” he said, stubbornly.

“Or you could do me. I like both.”

“Running,” Jason insisted, although his resolve was wavering. The image of pushing Dick down on the sand and then fucking into the heat of his body made the sparks shoot through him with such force he wobbled slightly, his knees suddenly weak. He probably would have just given into temptation if Dick hadn't taken that moment to capitulate.

He leaned away from Jason, taking the warm with him. “Where?” he asked and gestured widely before staggering a few steps deeper into the sea.

He had a point. The choices were back in the tunnel, climb the cliff or swim around the cove and hope for the best. “Um,” Jason said. The note seemed to assume he would have a more sensible option. “We could swim?” he offered at last.

Dick looked at him, looked at the dark water in front of them and shrugged, “Okay,” he said brightly and started stripping off his shoes and socks.

Jason looked down at his boots. They were his favourite, he had customised them himself, filled them with pouches and sheaths. He didn't want to leave them behind on this beach, he didn't want to leave his jacket or his pants either. But he also didn't want to drown.

He took off his boots, and after a moment of contemplation, his socks. Then he waded out into the sea. He could feel the water sucking him down, and came to the conclusion he was far too heavy to swim, so he sloshed himself back to the shore with long slow strides. He really didn't want to give up his jacket, so he took off his pants and tried again. Nope, leather and body armor was just too much. So he hauled himself back up the beach for a third time, to leave the whole lot sadly by the tunnel entrance. As he blinked back hot tears that felt like fireworks on his skin, he realised he could hear angry voices and noise echoing down the dark entrance way. He turned to see how Dick was doing. Much better it seemed, he was down to his shorts and already wading out.

When he saw Jason watching, he waved. “Which way?” he called, a note of happiness in his voice.

Jason immediately forgot his sadness and splashed his way into the cold water. Dick had asked an important question and he shivered in the chill as he squinted out at the dark water. “To the right?” he suggested at last, it was marginally brighter, maybe from the lights of civilisation. Maybe there would be a bar there, they could get a drink. Maybe go dancing.

Once again, Dick seemed happy to go with his idea and immediately launched himself in that direction. Jason followed, trying to stop the shivers of pleasure as the cool tug of the water set of more sparks on his skin.

 

They swam for in indeterminable length of time, it was easy at first but soon he started to feel a bit stiff and heavy, the cold and the current seemed to be dragging him down. He tried to lift his head from the waves to see Dick but there was sea water in his eyes, it seemed wrong that the stinging felt good. There was a sudden fear in him, that he had no idea of his own reality, and without it he might drown, and what was worse: he might enjoy it. His chest suddenly felt tight and he sucked in the cold salty water spluttering as some less drugged up part of his brain told him that was a terrible idea.

Then there were hot, cold fingers on his skin, and Dick's voice loud above the crashing of the sea. “It's alright, Jay, I've got you.”

He sounded different, clearer, like he knew what he was doing and wouldn't let Jason drown in this strangely enticing water. Maybe his drugs were wearing off. Jason felt sad for him, the drugs were amazing.

“I can see the beach, Jay, it’s not far,” Dick said, and he tugged at Jason's hand, encouraging him forward. 

Jason swam.


	7. Chapter 7

 

“Nice undies.”

Jason blinked his eyes open to see a gray haired, wind bitten man looking down at him. “Not really the weather for skinny dipping though,” the man continued, thoughtfully.

Jason attempted to say 'what?' but all that came out was, “Nugh?”

“Rough night was it? You're lucky you didn't freeze to death down here.”

“Huh?” Jason's head was throbbing and felt like it was full of cotton wool. He was becoming increasingly aware that he was freezing his balls off, though. He appeared to be on a beach, dressed only in an undersized t-shirt and a pair of Wonder Women boxers. Beside him, Dick was wearing even less, just underwear and bruises. That triggered a flash of memory. Garner striking Dick's face, and Jason snapping the fuckers neck. He couldn't remember getting here though, and he was suddenly afraid Dick wasn't breathing. He made the mistake of trying to sit up.

“ _Christ_ ,” he said, swallowing bile. He squinted at Dick and felt a rush of relief when he realised he could see the steady rise and fall of his chest.

This was worse than his most appalling hangover, but he managed to flail an arm out and poke Dick on an unbruised part of his face.

“Eughh,” Dick said, eloquently, rolling over and squinting blearily at him. “ _Why_?” he moaned, and he sounded as piteous as Jason felt. Dick flopped back over and looked up at the man, still calmly watching them, sipping from the big blue mug he was holding. “Are you Captain Briton?” Dick asked, groggily.

The man laughed, “No, son. I'm Peter Hobson from the White Hart. What were you boys drinking last night?”

“A brew straight from Satan's ass,” Dick muttered, unhappily. Hobson laughed again, louder.

“Well, come on back to the Hart and have a cup of tea to warm you up. You can't go wandering around town dressed like that.”

“Thanks,” Jason groaned, attempting to get to his feet without falling over. He vaguely remembered swimming, and feeling euphoric. But now everything hurt and he wasn't sure what exactly he should be doing, other than sleeping off whatever shitty chemicals were working there way out of his bloodstream. He leaned down to offer Dick a hand up, managing to avoid vomiting on him when the world spun sickeningly for a moment. Dick whimpered but gained his feet, holding on to Jason's arm in a weak grip. Together the staggered after Hobson as he lead them back up the beach.

 

The White Hart turned out to be an old, quaint inn, with a rustic hearth and sea views. Dick somehow managed to turn on the charm, despite being mostly naked, shivering and suffering the same sort of hangover as Jason. The landlady took one look at his big blue eyes and swelling jaw and the next moment they were both swaddled in blankets and drinking giant mugs of sugary tea. It was close to heaven. Dick had somehow cobbled together a story of drunken woe, involving copious amounts of alcohol, an almost comical mugging and going for a midnight dip – possibly an ill advised attempt to swim back to the USA. He had them all laughing, and completely wrapped around his little finger in minutes, it was a wizardry that Jason by himself could never hope to match.

“Can I make a call?” Dick asked, after regaling them with a story about drunkenly attempting to escape the muggers in the sand dunes. “I'll call my dad and get him to wire us some money, we can rent a room and perhaps order some clothes.”

“It's no worry,” Mrs Hobson said, handing him a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel. “You shouldn't be talking so much with that swelling on your face.”

“Jay can make the call, can't you, Jaybird?” Dick was said, turning apparently innocent eyes on him.

“Oh sure, I can make the call. But I'm not going to. This is _your_ fault, you tell daddy what happened.”

Dick's eyes seemed to grow in size, and his face became piteous and pleading. His lower lip even wobbled with sadness. “Please, Jay?” he asked.

To his eternal shame, Jason buckled.

But only because he had no intention of calling Bruce.

He took the cordless phone outside, still wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and clutching more tea. Then he called Tim.

“Hey,” he croaked, the short journey to the patio and bright morning light having caused another spasm of pain to his already aching head.

“Are you okay?” Tim said, in that rushed way he had when he was anxious and had a lot of stuff to say and no time to say it. “You fell off the grid last night, I've been worried sick. I wasn't sure if I should get the cops involved or not, but after I couldn't find any trace of you I called them anyway. Sorry if that screwed things up, but it was all I could do,” he added defensively. “Where were you? Why didn't you check in?”

“If I could get a word in?” Jason said, he kept his voice bland, despite the overwhelming urge to mock Tim for his concern. He realised that Bruce and the Bat brat's near miss probably had him on edge already, so Dick falling off the grid after Jason's call the previous evening probably had him frantic.

“Sorry,” Tim said, sounding a little sullen. “Where's Dick, he okay?”

“Yeah, he's fine. Bit bruised and with a drug induced hangover that feels like a night spent in a cement mixer, but otherwise fine.”

“So, what happened?”

Jason sighed, he really didn't want to go into details, but he sat his butt against a picnic table and gave a brief rundown of the previous night’s events. “...and then we woke up on the beach, and some local dude took us to his bar, and now we need cash,” he finished.

“I'll wire you the money,” Tim said, but there was something in his voice that sounded a little off.

“What? You got something else to say?” Jason snapped. “What happened after the cops were called, anyway? What happened to the gang?”

Tim was quiet for a moment. And Jason rubbed at his face tiredly as he waited for the kid to come out with whatever was bothering him.

“I laid some false trails, tide some stuff up for you, basically wrapped the gang up with a bow and dropped them in the cops lap,” he said at last.

“Thanks,” Jason said, slowly. There would have been a lot to tidy; DNA, video footage, the paper trail. A dead guy.

“You accessed their security system, you saw what went down,” Jason guessed. He felt another wave of tiredness wash over him, he really wasn't feeling up to a fight, but it was against his nature not to defend his corner.

“Yeah.”

“And? You going to make something of it? Forward it to the cops or to daddy-dearest?”

Tim was quiet over the line for a long moment, perhaps collecting his thoughts. Jason let him be, and squinted out across the bay. The morning was crisp and bright, full of the fresh promise of spring. It was calming, but he really wished he had a nice warm bed and at least nine hours uninterrupted sleep before he had to deal with this shit.

“When I got into their computer,” Tim finally began, “I tracked some emails back to Garner’s home system. I found footage he had taken, of the things he did to the other victims. He was going to do those things to Dick.”

“Yeah.” Jason didn't want to think about that, it made the red mist of rage bubble in his gut, and he just didn't have the energy for it. Instead he took comfort from the memory of the feel of Garner’s neck breaking in his hands.

“I got into their security system too. I saw what happened, why you did it.”

“Figured you did. Question is, what you going to do about it?”

“It's done already. After you escaped into the sea, they felt that you had probably both drowned. But on the off chance you hadn't they cleaned house and ran for the airport.”

“Cleaned house?”

“They disposed of Garner's body and started to erase any evidence of you being there. No fingerprints, no DNA that couldn't just be transfer from the times you spend together in London.”

“That was very helpful of them.”

“I thought so. I let them do that while I prepared my case for the cops. Then I let them get as far as the airport before having the police pick them up. You and Dick are in the clear. Richard Grayson wasn't involved with them after London and they killed Garner in a double cross. Only you and I know any different. Well, and the gang, but they would lie about that wouldn't they?”

“That's remarkably reasonable of you,” Jason said, perplexed. “You're not going to tell the B man?”

“No, although I won't lie if he asks. He probably won't though.”

“That doesn't compromise your overly-inflated Bat morals?”

Tim went quiet for a moment, and Jason silently cursed himself out for pushing dispute being thrown a bone.

“It does, but it’s a compromise I'm willing to take on this occasion. Don't think I'll do it again though,” Tim said, firmly.

“Not unless the situation warrants it?”

“Something like that,” his voice was clipped and tight. Not such an easy choice after all.

“I knew I liked you best for a reason, Replacement,” Jason said, trying to lighten the moment. He was all too aware he owed the kid big time for this one.

The tension stretched for a long second, then Tim huffed a laugh. “Oh you do, do you?” he said, his voice suddenly amused and mocking. “Didn't look that way to me, _Jase_.” The way he said the name was in the exact same way as Dick - no - _R_ i _chie_ , had said it after they had played out that scene in the bedroom. It was an incredibly good imitation – so good it made Jason flush. Because of _course_ Tim had seen that footage. Had probably seen far more than Dick, like the way Jason had to adjust himself after Dick had climbed off him and headed down to dinner.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Jason tried, half-heartedly.

“Sure you don't, lover boy.”

“Shut up. And never say that sentence again, it's just wrong coming out of your mouth. Anyway, I may owe you for sorting out this clusterfuck, but don't push your luck.” Tim's silence seemed both loud and mocking, and Jason squirmed. “It was just acting, okay?” he said at last. “It's easy to get swept up with the moment, that's all. We're fucking professionals.”

“Hmm.”

“Oh shut up. Look, you can mock me all you want later, but right now I have the mother of all hangovers and I need cash. All I have to my name at the moment is my underwear and a child sized t-shirt.”

Tim laughed, the jerk.

“Will you send funds to this inn direct? We'll need papers and shit to get out of the country too.”

“Sure. I like you better when you're hungover, much easier to jerk your chain. Although the distance helps too.”

“Yeah laugh it up, Sunshine. But let me give you one piece of advice for free - if you ever decide to be a proper teenager and sneak out to have fun, drugs are bad.”

“Thanks for that little pearl of wisdom, Jason.”

“Really, _really_ bad.”

 

Dick looked about ready to keel over when Jason headed back inside. He peered up hopefully, his jaw looked painful, and he had a black eye, but he still somehow managed to look attractive. It really wasn't fair.

“Spoke to our brother,” Jason said to the room at large. “He's booked us a bed for a few days, and is sorting out clothes and contacting the embassy about our missing passports.”

“That's a relief!” Dick said, “I'm ready to sleep for a _week_.”

“You boys are brothers?” Mrs Hobson asked doubtfully, looking between them.

“Same father,” Dick said smoothly, standing with the blanket still wrapped around him. “Did Tim say anything else? I assume it was Tim, due to the lack of shouting.”

“Nope, just that he's dealt with the legal side of things for us. Apparently I phoned him last night when I was drunk.”

“I suppose you boys will be wanting to sleep off those hangovers now, will you?” Mrs Hobson asked.

“That would be amazing,” The full force of Dick's smile was slightly hampered by his fat lip, but it still managed to charm Mrs Hobson, the woman was practically swooning.

 

Of course, ever the dickhead, Tim had booked them a king, no doubt he was back home in Gotham laughing his ass off. Well he wouldn't be laughing when Jason got home and zip tied him to a lamppost.

“Oh,” Mrs Hobson said. “Are you sure this is okay? We have two singles available at the moment, although they are on different floors, and a double room opening up after midday if you want to wait?”

“No this is fine,” Jason said. It wasn't only that he was ready to crash though, he could still feel the residue of fear in him, and he wanted someone to watch his back as he slept. It was very much something left over from before Robin, that he had never really grown out of, the need to be sure of his own safety before sleeping in a new environment. Even this exhausted he doubted sleep would come without a level of reassurance. And if he was being honest, he wanted to keep an eye on Dick, too.

Hell, maybe Tim wasn't such a jackass after all.

Dick shot him a considering look, like he knew the direction of Jason's thoughts, but then nodded and smiled at Mrs Hobson, gushing at how lovely the small, neat room was. Jason was sure it was nice but he was already shuffling towards the bed, clutching his blankets and blocking out Dick's continued chatter. Then the door shut and they were alone, too tired for awkwardness Jason slid under the warm duvet and when he felt Dick do the same he let his eyes slip closed and blessed sleep take him.

He woke once during the long day, adrenaline spiking at the unfamiliar room and strange smells of dried flowers and sea air. Beside him, Dick was sleeping quietly, his face peaceful, cheek pillowed on one hand like a small child. It was soothing, and Jason used the soft sound of his breathing to chase away his anxiety and slide him back into sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

When Jason next woke, Dick was staring at him from inches away.

“Oh my God, Jason. I'm so sorry!” he said. He was flushed, at first Jason thought he was sick or upset but as he blinked the sleep away he recognised the expression on his face: Acute embarrassment.

“Why, what ya do?” Jason asked, his voice still croaky from slumber.

“I'm not entirely sure, but I’m fairly sure I remember molesting you at some point. It's not super clear.” Dick squinted and scrunched up his nose, trying to force his memory to work through the effects of the drugs.

Jason could only remember snatches of his own experience, strange sense memory of being in the water, and of heat and cold sending shivers over his skin. “Yeah?” he asked, “I was off my face, don't really remember much.”

“I started to come down from it in the water, I guess I got dosed before you so it wore off quicker. So I remember bits of it. I think I was trying to do a recall when we hit land, but got stuck on the part where I was molesting you and wanting to...” he cut himself off. “Well anyway, I remember bits, but it's fuzzy. First thing I recall after telling you to put your jacket on and you having a sulk...”

“Hey!”

“...was being in the sea and um, making out with you, I think.” He looked so embarrassed and guilty, it was ridiculously charming. Jason felt he needed to actually remember what happened, because _not_ remembering making out with Dick was so deeply unfair.

But he couldn't. Nothing much past snapping Garners neck and running... somewhere. Then it was just flashes of being in the water.

“Anyway,” Dick said, sitting up against the headboard. “Sorry about that, even if you don't remember, it was still out of order.”

“Forget it, we were on drugs. For all we know it might have been me who started it.”

“I doubt that.”

 _Why?_ Jason wanted desperately to ask, but held back. Now probably wasn't the time to act like a dumb teenager with a crush.

“So,” Dick continued. “What now? Tim sorted things for us?”

“Yeah.” Jason gave him a rundown of events as he knew them, leaving out Dick being molested by Garner and the bastard’s death at Jason's hands. Why borrow trouble, after all?

“So, we're in the clear?” Dick rubbed at his bruised face. “Kind of anticlimactic not being able to wrap it up ourselves.”

“I'm just happy it’s done. I don't want to see their stupid faces again. This whole thing was an embarrassment and a fucking ridiculous ordeal.”

Dick smirked. “Agreed.”

“So, the question remains, what now?”

“We wait for Tim to sort out our documents I guess.” Dick looked at Jason, a small smile tugging at his mouth – and Jason had a sudden flash of memory – the heat of his skin and pulling at that plump lower lip with his teeth. Huh, so they did make out. Or at least his brain seemed to think so.

He was so busy trying to dredge up more hot images he didn't even flinch when Dick reached out to his hair and tugged on it.

“Your hair is amazing this morning, Jay,” he said, some sort of barely restrained glee in his voice.

Seeing as this statement was coming from someone whose own hair was sticking up into a giant quiff of sea salt and tangles, that did not bode well. Jason reached a hand up to find his own unruly mop had become big, slightly crunchy feeling curls. The copious amounts of product he used in it to restrain it had stood no chance against the sea. He hoped Tim had sent hair gel as well as some pants. He wouldn't though, because he was a bastard.

“Shower for me, I think.” He heaved himself up out of the bed. His t-shirt and shorts had that same, sandy, salty feel to them, like they were slightly crusted to his skin. He stripped his shirt off and half the beach fell out as he tossed it on the chair. As he moved towards to bathroom, he could swear he could feel Dick's eyes on his back.

 

His hair had looked as bad as it had felt, and it took Jason an annoyingly long time to deal with it. Luckily, while he had been trying to restore order to himself in the bathroom, Dick had been busy. He had called down to reception and ordered fresh coffee and some sandwiches to tide them over until dinner. Thankfully Tim had also put his superior online shopping skills to good use and ordered them essentials like toothbrushes and clothes. No hair products though. 

Brushing his teeth was wonderful, but not as wonderful as the sandwiches, Jason couldn't even remember the last time had eaten, he had missed dinner last night before and before that it had just been a couple of candy bars in the car on the way up. And now he was mostly recovered from his hangover he was _ravenous_ , and he wolfed down four sandwiches, hardly even bothering to chew.

 

Dick came out of the bathroom with his hair dripping water down his bare chest, Jason tried to tear his gaze away but somehow it got caught on the scar that ran through his nipple. He stared, then scowled when he remembered Garner's fingers tracing the path of the blade.

“Um, Jason?” Dick looked bemused, one eyebrow raised into his damp hair. “Are you okay?”

Jason tugged his eyes up and felt himself flush slightly. “Yeah, why shouldn't I be?” he said defensively.

“Because you were looking at me like you wanted to eat me, and then a second later like you wanted to murder me and bury me under the floor,” Dick said, annoyingly direct.

“I was just looking at that scar.” He pointed. “How'd you get it?”

Dick didn't look at all convinced but he hopped back on the bed, pushing himself up to the headboard and dripping on the pillows. “Gang-banger got me with a kitchen knife.”

“Your suit is thin enough that a kitchen knife will slice through it? Priorities, Dick.” 

Dick laughed. “Nah, it was a day job thing. My uniform is hardly knife proof.”

Jason grunted, irrationally angry at Dick being hurt in such a dumb-ass, preventable way.

“You're making the same face Bruce makes every time he remembers I'm a cop. It's not a great look on you, I gotta say.”

“I just think you getting stabbed to death for the sake of the illustrious Bludhaven police force is fucking stupid.”

“I'm not going to get stabbed to death, Jason. I'm perfectly capable of doing my job.”

“Yeah, but it’s a shitty job and doing it well might still get you killed.”

“I'm not a fan of this weird protective, judgey crap you've got going on – I liked it better when you were looking at me like I was a tasty snack.” Dick looked momentarily pained, and made another of those guilty faces. “Sorry, that was inappropriate. Again.”

“I don't mind,” Jason admitted, he kind of liked the possibilities this conversation seemed to be opening up.

“You don't mind inappropriate flirting?”

Jason shrugged, “I'm enjoying all the traumatized expressions you're making.”

Dick made another face at him, and Jason smothered a smile. “You weren't making them before, when we were practically humping for the cameras,” he said.

“That was work.”

“And the drugged up times weren't? Because they kind of were, in a way.”

Dick looked uncomfortable, his lower lip caught between his teeth. “Yeah, but it’s different. Now it's kind of stuck in my mind.”

“Was it hot? Because I don't remember,” Jason lied. “Seems a shame that only one of us recalls it.” As come-on’s went, it wasn't that subtle, but at the same time, it was guarded enough it could be completely ignored without too much damage being done to their tenuous friendship.

Dick gave him a measuring look from beneath his bangs and Jason wondered if he was pushing his luck. Dick seemed pensive, but at the same time he could have easily laughed it off or shot Jason down. And he hadn't.

“It was pretty hot,” he said at last. “At least I think it was, it's a bit fuzzy. It seems a shame not to remember properly.”

And that was all the permission Jason needed. It was all very well beating around the bush, but that was valuable time wasted that could be better spent making out. So he leaned forward, grabbed Dick by the ear and pulled him in for a kiss.

Once the first move had been made, Dick didn't waste any more time and after the first press of lips his tongue was suddenly in Jason's mouth and his hands were clutching at Jason's shoulders, trying to push him down, trying to dominate. So Jason rolled them, pinning Dick beneath him without stopping the kiss. He felt Dick's lips curve up into a grin and then he was on his back in turn. And then it was _on_.

Because they were two of the most stubborn and competitive people ever, they stopped kissing in favour of wrestling, Jason had size and strength on his side, but Dick was flexible and _ruthless_. He cheated too; when Jason finally pinned him, Dick wiggled and squirmed grinding his body up into Jason's until he couldn't even see straight any more, then when he loosened his grip to chase the amazing friction, Dick worked an arm loose, stuck his fingers into Jason's ribs and _tickled_ him. Jason shrieked in a way he would deny forever and fell off the bed, taking Dick down with him.

Dick landed on top of him again, but was overcome by breathless giggling.

“Dammit, Jay, I don't have the energy for this!” he said, panting like he had been fighting a horde of angry goons instead of being a dirty cheater.

Jason had to agree about the lack of energy and momently accepted being flat on his back. He was pretty sure he could still win from this position anyway, he wasn't above a bit of cheating himself. He reached up and smoothed his hands over Dick's lean, muscled back and down to his narrow waist, before edging lower to hold his ass. He couldn't quite reach and Dick shifted helpfully so he could get a better grip, then leaned down for another kiss.

“This is so wrong,” he said, against Jason's lips. He didn't sound worried, he sounded really turned on.

“Don't care.”

“ _Good_.”

Jason grinned and pulled him further down, so they were flush against each other, then wrapped a leg around Dick's waist, lifting his hips to rub against him. He was gratified when Dick moaned, low in his throat.

“I don't suppose Tim sent rubbers in his care package, did he?” Dick asked, hopefully.

“You know he didn't. And I'm not sure it would be a good idea to ask the Hobson’s since we told them we're half brothers.”

“Not sure they entirely believed us, but you're probably right. So fucking's off the table. Want me to suck you?”

Just the words in Dick's mouth made Jason's cock throb in his boxers. “Has anyone ever said no to you making that kind of offer?”

“Haven't made that it often,” Dick said, shifting his hips distractingly.

“Really? How many guys?” Jason asked, it was irrational to feel glad it wasn't many and he knew it was kind of out of order, but the hot jealousy suddenly pooling in his stomach was hard to ignore.

“Just two.”

“Who?”

“None of your damn business, is who,” Dick said, mouthing his way down Jason's chest and tonguing at his nipple.

“Roy? Wally?”

Dick poked him, hard in the stomach. “Ruining the mood, Jay.”

“Sorry, just curious. Can't help picturing it, wanting it to be me,” Jason admitted.

“It can be, I've only been fucked by one guy – you can be the second.”

Jason groaned, grinding up and pulling Dick's face towards him for a kiss. “Only one person’s fucked you?” he asked. Even if they had to wait, he couldn't deny he was seriously turned on by the images their conversation was bringing up.

“Only one _guy_ , couple of girls before that though.”

“They've fucked _you_?”

“Yeah, it was pretty awesome.”

“God, that's hot.” Jason rolled them over and mouthed at Dick's neck. “Tell me more,” he demanded.

Dick laughed, the sound rumbling against Jason's lips.

“First time was with Kory when I was seventeen. We were celebrating her birthday and I bought her some really tacky underwear.”

“Such a classy boy.”

“I was a horny one, that's for sure. So, when she decided she wanted me to wear them instead, I felt should agree – it was her celebration, after all.”

Jason was too far gone to even pretend to be ashamed by the noise he made at that image. “What colour were the panties?” he asked.

“Lacy purple satin. Anyway, one thing lead to another and I ended up bent over the bed with these panties on while she fucked my brains out with a strap-on.”

“Jesus,” Jason took a moment for that image to sink in before pulled Dick's shorts down and pumped his cock in his hand, spreading precome over the shaft. Dick groaned and wiggled beneath him and Jason struggled to tug his own boxers over his ass so he could rub against him, skin to skin. There was no way they were even going to get to sucking, they were too far gone.

“The best bit,” Dick said breathlessly, moving his hips to meet Jason's. “Was I could feel her breasts pushed against my back as she fucked into me,” Dick's voice was stilted and horse and his skin was flushed with arousal.

Jason sucked at the juncture of his neck and thrust harder against him, his hand working in time. “Keep talking, Dickie,” he muttered.

“She was so strong, she just held me down as she screwed me, and it was _hard_ , I could feel it for days. But she was gentle too, with the things she said. God, it made me feel good.”

“You like rough sex and lots of praise, then? I'll remember that.” Jason shifted pushing down harder with his hips and loving the feeling of Dick's muscles tensing with how close he was.

“I would do pretty much anything to see you in a pair of frilly panties, Jay,” Dick said, his own hand joining Jason's to pump them together. “Red, of course.”

Jason was both a little shocked and a little embarrassed that the image of himself being fucked in the way Dick described was what sent him over the edge into orgasm.

 

Dick was sprawled naked on the bed, talking on the phone when Jason came back into the room after a quick clean up in the bathroom. He waved and hung up as Jason hovered awkwardly by the table.

“So, we’re heading back to London by cab,” Dick said. He apparently didn't do post sex awkwardness and was openly leering at Jason's bare chest. “Then we have a room in another hotel for two nights while our papers get sorted, then we can fly home.”

“Two nights? It couldn't be quicker?”

“Well, it could, but I figured a couple of days to hangout before the family gets stuck into our business might be good? And as well as all the sex we are going to have – and I'm really counting on quite a lot of sex - we should have enough time to see some sights and visit a few places without having to be Richard Grayson and 'hunky but moody bodyguard'. I thought it would be fun.” 

“It will be. But ask before you make plans for me, I might have shit to do.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “What shit do you have to do? I just thought it would be nice, that's all.”

Jason flopped down on top of him and kissed away his scowl. “You drive me fucking crazy with your bossy bullshit,” he said. He suspected when they weren't screwing or sleeping they were going to be fighting. May as well get started now.

“I'm not bossy! _You're_ bossy!” Dick was grinning at him, and Jason couldn't help but smile back.

“I foresee a lot of fist fights in our future,” he said

“Or we could just have lots of angry sex?” Dick asked, hopefully.

“Right then, angry sex and sightseeing. I like the way you think. At least, I like it when you're not being bossy.”

“I knew you would see it my way.” Dick smiled like the sun, and ran his fingers through Jason’s hair, undoing all his hard work at flattening it to a manageable level.

Jason mock scowled at him. “I hate you. You're hot, but I hate you.”

“Feelings mutual, Jaybird,” Dick said, smugly.

 

End

 

 

 

 


End file.
